Wrong
by Vanillasiren
Summary: Summary: Vorta care only for their gods. They certainly do not feel affection for the Jem'Hadar, other solids, or even their own kind. Or do they? "What is WRONG with us?" Weyoun 5/Kilana 3. My first Star Trek fic, please review!
1. Prologue

Wrong

Prologue: The Request

*Author's Note: For those who might need a refresher, Kilana appeared in Season 5 when Sisko fought to keep the wreckage of a crashed Dominion ship. She attempted to negotiate a compromise with him, but their mutual mistrust led to tragedy, as her true goal was not to reclaim the ship but save the Founder hidden in it, who later died. This story takes place in Season 6, when the Dominion forces are occupying the station. Please excuse any minor inaccuracies in reference to Canon events; it's been a long time since I've seen this show. Reviews encourage updates, so if you like it, please let me know.*

The war was not going well for the Dominion. At least, not well enough.

The mine field. That _damned_ mine field. It irritated him to no end that they had a legion of reinforcements, just _waiting_ on the other side of the wormhole, but could not bring them to the Alpha Quadrant, all because of those cursed mines. Even as he grudgingly admired the cleverness of using the self-replicating mines, it infuriated him that Dukat, despite all his posturing and promises, had not managed to find a way to deactivate them yet. And is if that weren't enough, he found himself strangely … lonely.

The Vorta were, after all, inherently social creatures. It made sense that this was part of their genetic make-up, given how they interacted with multiple species as the Founders required, so loneliness was sometimes something they had to live with. But it wasn't that he lacked company; it was that he lacked _friendly _company. Of course, he would plaster a gracious smile on his face in front of Dukat, Damar, and the other Cardassians, exchange pleasantries with them and try to keep his impatience from showing when he inquired about progress with the mines, but he was no fool. He was well aware that Dukat and his ilk did not like or even respect him; at best they tolerated his presence as a necessary evil, and the other inhabitants of the station treated him no better.

He was always exceedingly polite with Major Kira, even as he felt the antipathy pouring off of her in waves every time they were required to interact, but he made no progress in establishing any kind of real understanding with her, or any of the others. And even though he felt blessed to be in the presence of not one, but two of his gods, the truth was that Odo was quite uncomfortable around him, and the Female Founder was increasingly dismissive of him, her patience growing thin as time marched on without the mine field being taken care of. He couldn't blame her, of course, but he felt the sting of her rejection keenly, as only a Vorta could. No one would have guessed it from the way he acted, but truth be told, Weyoun found himself rather desperate for a confidante, an ally … a friend.

It was this desperation, which, at least in part, gave him the courage to bring up a new subject at the next meeting between himself, Dukat, Odo, and the Female Founder, who served as the ruling council of the station. His tone peremptorily apologetic, he explained quietly that the Vorta diplomats who had been tasked to be "facilitators" on Bajor had not done so, as they knew, because of what he could only refer to as the "unfortunate incident," the protest-by-suicide of a Bajoran Vedek. Most of the Vorta had been re-tasked already – captaining Dominion ships, overseeing production of Ketracel-white in the Alpha Quadrant – but a few had yet to find a permanent assignment.

Among them was Kilana, a relatively "young" Vorta with whom he had worked in one of his previous incarnations. She was "young" in the sense that she was only on her third life, her previous clone having opted for voluntary termination after she failed to save the Founder in her difficult negotiations with the intractable Captain Sisko. Despite her failure, however, he had found her to be quite the capable and versatile diplomat, and reasoned that the Cardassians as well as the Bajorans might respond more favorably to the sincere, soft-spoken female Vorta than they did to him.

And truth be told, he felt himself stretched rather thin managing things at the station, and believed having a counterpart would allow for more efficiency and effectiveness in the work. His motives were far from selfish, he told himself, even if he couldn't deny the simple fact that it would be nice to have a friendly face around.

After he finished presenting his argument – request, really – he fell silent, waiting for the Female Founder to approve or disapprove of his suggestion. It didn't really matter what Dukat thought, although Weyoun could tell that he didn't relish the though of having another Vorta to deal with, and Odo probably didn't care one way or the other. The Founder looked at him appraisingly, and he met her eyes briefly before respectfully lowering his gaze, patiently awaiting her decision.

"Why Kilana?"

Startled, he looked back up, to find her regarding him expectantly, waiting for an answer. He had assumed she would simply grant or deny his request, not that she would question the particulars of it. She had caught him off guard, but as she began to look impatient he hastened to answer:

"She is one of the most capable negotiators we have …"

"Even taking into account the incident with Captain Sisko?" The Founder's tone was sharp, and at the mention of Sisko's name, both Dukat and Odo looked at her with interest. Before, they had been somewhat indifferent. Now they were genuinely invested in the conversation.

Weyoun bowed his head in acknowledgement of the grief over the tragic loss of the life of one of his gods, but after a brief pause, still answered: "Respectfully, Founder, yes, even taking that into account. I assumed you still had faith in her, since you opted not to delete her template. Forgive me if I presumed too much."

"You did not presume too much," the Founder replied, her tone softening, to Weyoun's relief. "However, I am not entirely certain we need another Vorta on the station." Anticipating her next words and quickly camouflaging his disappointment, Weyoun nodded dutifully. "Therefore, I am not inclined to grant your request –"

"I am." Weyoun, the Founder, and Dukat all turned in surprise to look at Odo. The Female Founder in particular stared at him, not in annoyance but in shock, that he would be willing to interfere in was so clearly a Dominion matter. Uncomfortable with the sudden attention, he shrugged in an attempt at approximating nonchalance. "What's the harm in it, really?" He asked her. "Another Vorta might prove useful in running of the station." She appeared to consider his words – his was the only opinion she really took seriously, anyway – and finally nodded as if seeing the wisdom of them.

"Very well, Odo," she said, and then turned to Weyoun. "Your request is granted. But understand, if Kilana does not prove useful in her post here, I will re-assign to a position in which she can better serve our interests."

"Of course, I understand," Weyoun said, bowing. "Thank you, Founder." He had absolutely no idea why Odo had intervened for him, but he was very grateful, not to mention completely honored.

Had he known of Odo's true motives, he might not have been so pleased. Still loyal to his Alpha Quadrant friends, Odo was hoping that this new Vorta might be more easily influenced than Weyoun. He knew the man was in awe of him, as all members of his species were, but still, he would never side with Odo over the Female Changeling, or the interests of the Dominion. Perhaps this new Vorta would prove to be more … flexible. At least, that was what he hoped.

As it was, all Weyoun knew was that he would soon have a colleague on board the station with him, someone who would shoulder some of the burden of his workload, perhaps even ease the tensions between himself and the others – and best of all, someone who would understand his situation as no one else, not even the Founders, could. Kilana would arrive in a few days, and Weyoun found himself actually looking forward to something for the first time in very long while.


	2. Chapter 1

Wrong

Chapter One: The Arrival

_Was he the only one who was happy to be here?_

That was the thought running through Weyoun's mind as they waited for the arrival of Kilana's ship at the airlock. Dukat and Damar both looked bored, the Major looked like she was struggling to control her anger (probably because Dukat had "ordered" her to be present), the female Founder was inscrutable, and even Odo was difficult to read. Not that he was ecstatic, but he found himself rather annoyed that no one else could even pretend to think was a matter of some importance…

They all turned their heads at the sound signaling the docking of a ship. A few moments later, several Jem'Hadar were striding towards the airlock. It opened. They stayed where they were, nodding in deference to the Founders as they assured themselves that the area was safe for the entry of the Vorta they escorted. They parted to allow her entrance.

At first glance, Kilana seemed exactly as Weyoun remembered her. The same hair, the same clothes – she was even still wearing those silly little "earrings," a fashion she'd picked up from the Calians when she had been in charge of overseeing their integration into the Dominion a few lifetimes ago. They had done well together on that project, but he remained puzzled as to why she still wore the jewelry when their task was finished. She'd never been able to give him a satisfactory answer…

Mentally shaking himself out of his frivolous contemplation, he stepped forward, briefly clasping each of her hands in each of his own, the traditional greeting among Vorta.

"Weyoun," she said simply, smiling, gracious as ever, but as he studied her features, he realized she _had_ changed. Though not technically the same being who had suffered through the death of one their gods, she still carried the memories of it, and he could see in her eyes that the experience had aged her, changed her. Beneath the polite, pleasant veneer, he saw sadness, weariness, and perhaps even loneliness as well.

"Kilana," he said by way of greeting, and he let their joined hands fall apart. He turned slightly. "Please, allow me to introduce –"

"Gul Dukat. A pleasure, I assure you." The man's expression had shifted from boredom to a look of intense interest, and he took her hand in his, briefly touching his forehead to it – a Cardassian gesture of gallantry, if Weyoun remembered correctly. Kilana's smile widened. "The pleasure is all mine, as well as the honor, of meeting the head of the newest member of the Dominion."

Dukat returned her smile, and then introduced Damar, who repeated his superior's gesture with only slightly less enthusiasm. Inwardly, Weyoun was amused. No one else had noticed, but he had seen Kilana's features flicker with the merest hint of annoyance when they touched her. Even as she beamed at Dukat, Weyoun already knew she found him distasteful.

Beside them, Major Kira made a little noise of disgust, which she hastily tried to turn into a cough as the Cardassians both turned to look at her, Damar in annoyance, Dukat in amusement.

"And this is Major Kira, of the Bajoran Militia," he told Kilana.

"Always a pleasure to meet another one of our allies," she said, extending her hand towards Kira, who was not nearly so good at concealing her distaste. The indignant look that crossed her face was obvious to everyone, and it took a moment for her to remember herself and shake the other woman's hand.

Weyoun then turned to the Founders, who needed no introduction. Kilana bowed to them and then waited in respectful silence until the female spoke.

"You may go," she said, not to Kilana, but to her Jem'Hadar guard. Kilana nodded briefly to the First, and then turned back to the Founder, though she discreetly averted her gaze until directly addressed.

"Weyoun will make you aware of what your duties will be on the station," the Female Founder began, and she nodded dutifully. "You will be expected to attend the council meeting next week, and to demonstrate full knowledge of your new role at the time." Kilana nodded again, not daring to speak. "For now, I will call for an escort to show you to your quarters –"

"No need," Dukat said, and Weyoun saw the shock and annoyance cross Kilana's face at the audacity of the Cardassian having interrupted the god. Fortunately, Dukat himself was oblivious. "I will show her to her quarters. Damar, Major, you may go."

"Very well," the Female Founder said in a tone of indifference. She turned to leave, and Odo followed. Kira trailed after them, rolling her eyes so far back that Weyoun thought they might get stuck that way. Dukat looked pointedly at Damar, who was apparently to be too busy looking at Kilana to pay attention to anything else. When he finally focused on Dukat he seemed embarrassed, muttered something unintelligible, and made a hasty retreat. The smile still plastered on her face, Kilana's gaze darted quickly over to Weyoun, with a look that said, "Help me!"

"I shall accompany you," he said, even as Dukat frowned. "We have much to discuss," he added the obvious for Dukat's benefit. Kilana was careful to keep her focus on Dukat as they made their way to the habitat ring.

"This is very kind of you, Gul," she said to him as they walked. "I am sure you have much more pressing matters to attend to than seeing that I am comfortably settled in." Weyoun caught her statement for the veiled insult that it was, but the Cardassian was oblivious.

"Ah, but it's part of my job to make our allies feel welcome, valued," he said smoothly. _Which explains why you've done such an excellent job of that with me_, Weyoun thought. "And please there is no need to address me by my title. Dukat will do just fine."

Kilana ducked her head in seeming coyness; it was a practiced gesture Weyoun had seen her use before. "Very well, Dukat," she said softly as the approached her quarters. "Thank you so much for making me feel welcome."

They stepped inside her new quarters, and after several inquiries from Dukat and reassurances from Kilana that they were more than satisfactory, he finally departed. As soon as the door closed behind him, the smile fell off of her face.

"Thank the Founders!" She exclaimed. "I thought he'd never leave. Is he always like that?"

Weyoun chuckled. "Usually only with Major Kira, or his latest conquest. And here I thought you were happy he made you feel 'welcome,'" he teased her.

She pointed a finger at him. "You are not amusing," she said, and without ceremony plopped down on the couch. Weyoun sat beside her. "And I understand I have _you_ to thank for this new assignment?"

"I'm afraid so. Forgive me, I didn't know Dukat would have such a reaction to you."

Kilana sighed. "I'll get used to it. In any case, it's better than being on the front lines. Not that I would ever hesitate to serve the Founders in whatever capacity they see fit to use me for," she added hastily, and he nodded his agreement.

Relaxing slightly, she smiled at him again, a more genuine smile than she had given the Cardassians or Major Kira. Kilana had always preferred to be sincere when the situation allowed it, but like all Vorta, she knew when to pretend.

"It will be nice working with you again, you know."

He smiled back. "Likewise."

"Well then. Now that all the pleasantries are taken care of, you can tell me everything I need to know about my new position."


	3. Chapter 2

Wrong

Chapter Two: Colleagues

Kilana's first few weeks on the station had gone well. She adapted quickly to her new position, as Weyoun knew she would. Her natural aptitude for ingratiating herself proved useful easing the tensions between the major power players on the station. Even Major Kira seemed rather less hostile lately. He suspected she was pleased that Dukat was paying more attention to Kilana and less to her as of late. Her presence on the station seemed to please him, and to a lesser extent Damar, to no end. But Weyoun was starting to worry that perhaps it pleased them too much.

The way they behaved around her alternately amused and annoyed both Vorta, but they could certainly live with their rather obvious interest in her. What Kilana should not have to tolerate, however, were the lewd, lascivious comments both men would make about her, sometimes in her very presence, when they thought she couldn't hear – but of course she could. Vorta hearing was excellent, the better for them to surreptitiously listen in on an enemy, or even an ally if the situation called for it. He'd see her flinch slightly at their thoughtless and inappropriate 'whispers' more than once, though she wouldn't dare risk offending them by letting them know she was aware of every distasteful word. When he walked in on the two of them doing it again, it was the last straw.

"Why couldn't Kilana have been assigned to Terak Nor in the first place?" He heard Damar ask as he approached Sisko's – no, Dukat's – office. "What do we need Weyoun for anyway?"

Dukat chuckled softly. "Now, now, Damar, don't speak ill of our valued ally. He has his assets, and he's provided us with valuable insights."

"Sir, I'd much rather look into Kilana's 'insights,' and I find her 'assets' a great deal more appealing than his. I think you do too."

"Yes, she is quite attractive, isn't she? Such a pity the Vorta have long since abandoned _sexual_ reproduction in favor of cloning."

"Wait, you mean, you don't think they – do you even think they _can_?"

"I've seen no indication that they can, or that they do. Who knows? Perhaps the Founders simply genetically engineered it out of the Vorta. Perhaps they still can, but they don't know how. Though if that's the case, I'd be more than happy to … educate her." He could see Dukat's predatory smile as the two men laughed together, and he strode into the office and confronted them without preamble.

"That's enough."

They looked at him in confusion, unaware that he had overheard their conversation. "These disgusting comments about Kilana are going stop. _Now_. If you cannot respect me, then you will at least respect her. She should not be made to feel so uncomfortable merely because the two of you cannot keep your primitive urges in check."

Damar glared at him. "How did you –"

"The Vorta have excellent hearing," Weyoun cut him off. Dukat regarded him with interest.

"Do they? Ah, which means our dear Kilana has probably heard some our … less discreet comments as well," Dukat said, and Weyoun nodded curtly. "Forgive me. I had no idea…"

"I'm not interested in your apologies, I just want it to stop," Weyoun said, a little more sharply than he meant too. The Cardassian's eyes widened, and Damar started to say something, objecting to the Vorta's tone, but Dukat gestured for him to be silent. He met Weyoun's gaze squarely.

"It will stop, I promise you. Perhaps we should make an apology? I didn't realize we were making her so uncomfortable that she would have to come to you with –"

"She didn't come to me, but I could tell that your words were upsetting her, even if you couldn't." He didn't understand why Dukat's expression was now slightly smug, but he didn't particularly care. "As for an apology, I think it would be best for her if you simply pretended none of this ever happened."

"As you wish," Dukat said, his tone surprisingly mild, given the situation. "Damar, you heard Weyoun? None of this happened. And from now on, we will keep our … appreciation of our new ally to ourselves."

Damar looked less then pleased, but he nodded obediently. "Yes, sir." Dukat gave him a pointed look, and he excused himself to attend to station business. Weyoun turned to leave after him.

"Weyoun." The Gul's voice called him back. "I really am sorry about this. It's just in our nature…"

"That's no excuse. She should not have to be subjected to such indignities."

"Of course," Dukat said deferentially. "And you have my word, she never will again. Not from us, in any case." He titled his head at the Vorta, looking at him as though she was trying to puzzle something out. "You're very protective of her, aren't you?"

The question caught him off guard. "No, I … it's just … she is young. Things that might not faze someone older who was in her position, she takes to heart."

"Young? What does that word even mean among the Vorta? She's a clone like the rest of you, isn't she?"

"Yes, of course, but she's only on her third life."

"Ah. Whereas you, on your fifth, are older and wiser."

"Something like that."

"But you've worked with her before, haven't you? How many lifetimes ago was that?"

"Two for me, one for her. Is there a point to this conversation, Dukat?" What was the man getting at?

As he was wont to do, the Cardassian picked up Captain Sisko's baseball, studying the thing as though it fascinated him.

"No, none beyond idle curiosity. Is there anything else you needed to discuss with me?"

"Not at the moment. Just so long as we're clear on this."

"Quite clear. And again, my deepest apologies for offending your …"

"Colleague," Weyoun finished for him, puzzled at his odd manner. There was something in his tone that he couldn't quite put his finger on, but he wasn't going to waste time wondering about it, so long as the situation was resolved. He nodded and exited the office, even as he heard Dukat chuckling, "Colleague indeed."

"It's a terrible idea."

"No it's not."

"I am telling you, assuming she even agrees, if you go through with it, it's guaranteed to end badly."

Weyoun and Kilana were dining at Quark's – lunch this time. It had quickly become their habit to share a meal together at least once a week, trying the different cuisines the station's promenade had to offer, while discussing Dominion business and station politics. Despite their limited sense of taste, they rather enjoyed sampling the foods of different cultures and races. And yet they found themselves returning to the Ferengi's bar more often than not, perhaps because he was really the only merchant who was genuinely pleasant to them rather than coldly polite.

Of course, at first, he was rather overly pleasant to Kilana, but a few glares and well-placed words from Weyoun soon curbed the Ferengi's attentions – though, observing their consumption of his food and drink, he had once muttered something odd, something along the lines of, "Well, two out of three isn't bad,*" but the comment seemed fairly innocuous, if confusing, so he let it pass.

In any case, he and Kilana never discussed it, nor did they mention the newly respectful attitudes of Damar and Dukat. On some level, he knew that Kilana knew, or at least suspected, that he had interceded on her behalf. While she was probably grateful for the help, she was also likely equally embarrassed to need it in the first place. Weyoun was happy to leave the issue unremarked upon between them. What she was proposing now, however, was entirely different, and a matter on which he would not stay silent.

"You don't know that, Weyoun. Stop being so negative! This is what I do. I establish rapport, I build connections."

"All Vorta do that, as the situation requires, Kilana."

"Well yes, but I'm especially good at it. Just as you excel at military strategy and diplomatic intrigue. That's why you requested my assignment here, isn't it? Because you still have faith in my abilities?"

"Yes, of course, always, but …"

She folded her arms across her chest, her look daring him to come up with a better argument.

"But what?"

"You don't even know how to play Springball!"

Dropping her arms at her sides, Kilana laughed. "Really? That's the best you can come up with it? For your information, I'm well acquainted with the rules of the game. I've been studying it for some time now…"

"Studying it and playing it are quite different, I assure you. We are not made for such things, Kilana. It is not a game Vorta should aspire to play."

"Oh, but Dabo is?" She teased him. Weyoun scoffed.

"I hardly ever do that anymore."

"Liar, you were in here just last week –"

"The point, there is a fundamental difference between Springball and Dabo."

"You mean, one is a respectable Bajoran pastime while the other is an emblem of Ferengi debauchery?"

"Nooo. One game is physical, the other is not. And despite the natural grace of our species, and of you in particular, my dear, the Vorta are not suited to such blatantly physical activities or exertions. It's why the Jem'Hadar do the fighting, and we do everything else."

The look on Kilana's face was a familiar one. It was the look she got when he'd made a valid point, but her stubbornness didn't allow her to concede.

"Well … well … you're wrong," She huffed at him. "I'm going through with it."

He rolled his eyes. "Fine, just don't come crying to me when you injure yourself."

"You know, I thought you would applaud my initiative, Weyoun. Major Kira is my colleague … _our _colleague … and she needs to start viewing herself as such if we are to make any progress here. And after all, if she is, as you suspect, planning some sort of organized resistance against us, my establishing a connection with her might cause her to let down her guard and inadvertently reveal something …"

"Oh, and here I thought you were only interested in deepening the grand friendship between our two peoples."

"You disapprove?"

"Not at all. It's good to know you can still be devious," he said, and they smiled conspiratorially at each other. "But you should not underestimate the Major. She's on her guard around us, always."

"Which is exactly why I need to interact with her on a different level, and in a different setting, in order for her to let her guard down."

"You premise is not with merit, Kilana, but I still say it's a bad idea –"

"Major!" Kilana said as the woman in question entered the bar, standing up and smiling. Kira nodded at her, barely managing a small smile in return. Weyoun shook his head almost imperceptibly, but Kilana was already striding over to the other woman. He heard the reluctance in Kira's voice as his colleague went on about her supposed 'fascination' with Springball, but eventually she said something that made the Bajoran agree.

"Come Major, it's a chance to channel some of our pent-up frustrations. We could put a picture of Dukat's face on the ball and whack it around the holosuite."

For a moment Kira stared at her, astonished she would so blatantly express her distaste for the man. She had always harbored a sneaking suspicion that the female Vorta's friendly, almost flirtatious manner with Dukat and the other Cardassians was for show, but had never been able to confirm it. And now, despite her antipathy towards the Dominion, she couldn't help but laugh at her proposal, and Kilana laughed with her. Weyoun had to admire her skill at manipulating the Major. However, he still felt this Springball experiment would be a disaster.

"And Damar's face on the other side, I suppose?" The Major was asking. Kilana nodded.

"Naturally."

"Do you even know how to play?"

"I'm familiarized myself with the rules of the game, yes."

"Well, alright. One game. But don't expect to go easy on you."

"Major, I wouldn't expect you to 'go easy' on anyone. Except perhaps Ziyal." _Well played_, Weyoun thought, as Kira's visibly softened at the mention of the young woman.

"Well, Ziyal is special."

"Indeed. Quite a remarkable young woman, with an incredibly even and sweet temperament, given all she has been through. She must get it from her mother," Kilana added, and they chuckled again.

The made arrangements for a match the next day, and as Kira went to Quark to book a holosuite, Kilana returned to Weyoun, wearing a look of triumph.

"Tell me I'm good."

"You're brilliant. But I still think this is a terrible idea." Kilana smirked.

"Well, I looked forward to proving you wrong."

*Quark's line here is in reference to when the Dominion Occupation first started, and Quark worried that his business would suffer, because, as he said, "The Jem'Hadar don't eat, don't drink, and they don't have sex. And as if that weren't bad enough, the Founders don't eat, don't drink, and they don't have sex." Ziyal, trying to cheer him up, said "It might not be so bad. For all we know, the Vorta could be glutinous, alcoholic sex maniacs."


	4. Chapter 3

Wrong

Chapter Three: Friends

"Are you sure you want to keep going?"

Major Kira was looking a the Vorta with something approaching concern, which Kilana might have been able to appreciating if she had not been doubled over, attempting to remember how to breathe. As she had expected, the Major was soundly beating her at the game; what she had not anticipated, however, was precisely how inept she would prove on the court. Sure, she'd managed to hit the ball a few times, but mostly she'd been reflexively ducking out of the way, which seemed to both amuse and annoy her opponent. The times she'd hit the thing were only the result of her putting her racquet up in a defense mechanism. She could stand on her ship with her Jem'Hadar and go into battle, knowing they could face death or capture at the hands of vicious enemy like the Klingons … but that ball … it was going to whack her in the head and render her unconscious, she knew it. That ball … did not like her.

Hopefully the Major felt differently. "I'm … I'm fine," she huffed, smiling despite the pain in her side. "Really, let's keep going."

Kira stared at the other woman incredulously. The Vorta's normally impeccable demeanor was gone; her hair was disheveled, her dress soaked with sweat (why hadn't she changed into more appropriate attire?), and twice they'd had to stop already because one of those earrings she always wore fell off, though the Major knew it also served the dual purpose of letting her catch her breath. And yet, through it all, she kept being so damn _pleasant_, complimenting her skills, and making self-deprecating comments about her own abilities, or lack thereof. Kira had been trying very hard to dislike her on principle, but she was just so … they was something almost _innocent_ about her, she just seemed so damn eager to please … it almost reminded her of Ziyal in a way.

In any case, despite her dislike for the Dominion, she found she was no longer deriving even a small amount of satisfaction from watching one of their servants nearly kill herself in an attempt to play Springball.

"No, no. We're done," she said firmly.

Kilana's eyes widended. "But we haven't even finished the match –"

"We're done," Kira said emphatically. "We'll call in draw, alright?"

Now it was Kilana's turn to look incredulous. "A draw? When you're leading 24 to zero?" Springball was played to the 25th point.

"Um, actually, that last one made it 25, I just didn't want to tell you…"

The two women stared at each other for a moment, and then, as the ridiculousness of the situation hit them, they both started laughing.

"Major," Kilana said as she caught her breath again, "I had no idea you could be so … diplomatic. Oh, I am sorry I wasn't able to provide you with a challenging game. I just wanted to… you know, I'm usually better at this."

"Better at Springball?" The Major asked doubtfully. Kilana ruefully shook her head.

"No, I think we've established that I'm hopeless when it comes to your fine sport. I meant, I'm usually better at … establishing rapport. Building connections with our allies, you know …"

Her voice trailed off as she saw the Major's expression change when she said the word 'allies,' and inwardly cringed, knowing she'd made a mistake. But now that she had brought it up, she might as well press the point.

"Ah, but you don't like to think of yourself as a Dominion ally, do?"

Kira was silent.

"Have we really been so bad for your people, Major? We _have_ kept the Cardassians off your planet; we have not allowed them to do anything to you that they did before. Should your people accept membership, you would be equal to any other race in the Dominion, including your former enemies. We might even be able to get them to make reparations…"

"Bajor is not interested in joining the Dominion," Kira snapped, all trace of pleasantness gone. Kilana sighed.

"Forgive me Major, I shouldn't have brought it up. I just wish you would realize the Dominion is not a force of evil …"

"You only say that because you think of the Founders as your gods. You'll believe whatever they tell you, and you'll do whatever they tell you, even if it includes killing innocents! You don't even question –" Her temper finally awoken, Kilana interrupted the Major sharply.

"And what makes me so different from you in that respect, Major? I would think you of all people would understand the worship of and devotion to gods that outsiders consider simply another 'alien' form of life. If the Prophets walked among you, and told you to harm someone, even kill them, would you refuse? No, I don't think you would. I think you would follow the will of your gods. You know, sometimes believing in something means you just believe it, and you don't ask questions!"

Kira stared at her; her last few words sounded eerily familiar, and she was fairly certain she had said something very similar once – to Odo, ironically, when he asked about her faith. The notion that she might have something so fundamental in common with the Vorta both disturbed and intrigued her.

Kilana, misinterpreting her silence as anger, sighed again and dropped her arms, as if in acquiescence.

"Forgive me again … I shouldn't have made such a comparison …"

"No," Kira said. "It wasn't … entirely inaccurate. But I still think your gods are a great deal less merciful than ours."

Kilana nodded. "Well, you are certainly entitled to your opinion, but then, I don't think your gods have ever been attacked by almost every other race they've encountered, simply because they are different."

"Almost every race … but not yours?"

"No, the Vorta … I don't suppose … you'd care to hear the story?" She asked, almost hopefully.

And with that, it seemed a sort of stalemate had been reached, a tenuous truce akin to understanding, and perhaps even (Kilana hoped), respect.

"I wouldn't mind," Kira said, her voice carefully neutral. "Let's get cleaned up first, alright?"

Kilana nodded, and they went to the sonic showers on either side of the court. Kilana emerged looking much tidier, but the Major noticed she seemed to be limping.

"Are you in pain?" She asked as they walked out of the holosuite together. The Vorta attempted to cover, waving her hand dismissively.

"Just … a little stiff." Everything hurt. Her back, her arms, her legs, all ached. "I'm sure it will pass."

"Maybe we should go to sickbay. They could give you a muscle relaxant, or a sedative."

"Thank you for the thought Major, but I'm afraid those won't work on me. The same genes that make Vorta immune to most toxins and poisons unfortunately make us immune to other substances as well."

"That's too bad."

"I'm telling myself it's a small price to pay. Though at this moment, I wouldn't mind just having to avoid a poisoned drink… speaking of which …"

The two women ordered dinner from Quark, who started to ask how their game had gone. The Major gave him a look, but Kilana said simply, "She won, of course," and left it at that. Several heads turned in their direction as they sat down; people of all races on the station knew Kira had no love for the Dominion, and many suspected she was covertly resisting them, returning to her old ways from back in the days of the Cardassian occupation. To see her sitting with one of the Vorta and having what appeared to be an entirely pleasant conversation was something she knew would be observed and discussed all around the station.

She didn't mind; if word got out she was softening her stance on the Dominion, it would make her look less guilty should any of her clandestine acts of sabotage come to light. That's what she told herself, anyway. She's certainly wasn't going to admit that she didn't mind Kilana's company.

"So, you were going to tell me a story?"

"Yes, about how the Vorta came to be what we are today. You see Major, before the Founders, we were quite primitive. We were small, timid, ape-like creatures who lived in trees to avoid the many predators on our home world, subsisting on nuts and berries and the like. One day, a Founder was being chased by a group of Solids and stumbled into our woods. A family of Vorta hid the Founder, and in gratitude, he promised he would transform all of us into powerful beings who would help his people bring order to the galaxy."

"Ah. And the Founders kept their promise by … genetically engineering you."

"They literally accelerated our evolution, Major, by thousands and thousands of years. They made us intelligent and powerful, and they protected us from other Solids who would punish us for our loyalty to them. All because of a single, simple act of kindness. Is it any wonder why we worship them?"

There was such reverence in her voice as she related the story that Kira could not helped but be interested. She wondered if it was true, or simply something the Vorta had all been told. She found herself hoping the tale was accurate; after all, the Founders were Odo's people, and she didn't want to believe that he was the only Changeling capable of kindness and compassion. It was much easier to think of the enemy as completely evil, but as Kira had learned in recent years, even Cardassians weren't total monsters…

"Ah, Major, Kilana," Gul Dukat strode up to them, and Kira couldn't be sure which one of them he was leering at; probably both. _At least not all of them_, she thought bitterly. Kilana had already plastered a smile on her face, but Kira of course felt no such compunction to humor Dukat.

"So nice to see the two of you talking together," Dukat continued. "It's good to show how well we are all getting along." Kira rolled her eyes.

"The Major and I have just finished a game of Springball," Kilana said, when it became clear he wasn't going to leave until at least one of them said something.

"Really? I didn't even realize the Vorta engaged in sports." Kilana winced, one hand kneading the muscles at the back of her neck.

"Well, we don't, normally, which may have something to do with the fact that I didn't score a single point, to say nothing of the Major's superior skills…"

"Kilana, Major, Dukat…" Weyoun strode towards them, and Kilana quickly put her hand down, but then gave herself away as she winced when turning her head in his direction. Sudden movements were not the best idea right now.

"Are you alright, Kilana?"

"I'm fine," she said tightly.

He looked at her knowingly, smug. She hated that.

"You injured yourself playing Springball, didn't you?"

" 'Injured' is a rather strong word…"

"If all of you will excuse me, I'm ready to call it a night," the Major said flatly, and stood up.

"Goodnight then Major," Kilana said, her smile growing more sincere. "Thank you for the game …and the conversation." Her demeanor softening, Kira gave the woman a small smile in return, before nodding stiffly at Dukat and Weyoun as she quickly made her way out.

"I don't suppose you'll be trying Springball next, Weyoun?" Dukat asked. The Vorta shook his head.

"No, I don't think so. There are simply some activities to which we are not suited, which could even, in fact, needlessly lead to significant discomfort and injury –"

"Are you going to lecture me, Weyoun?"

Dukat looked between the two of them. Her words would indicate annoyance with him, but her tone did not. Their was a challenge in it, to be sure, but there was something almost … playful in her manner, as she looked at him, a little half-smile on her face, her eyes bright, and he got the feeling that they were teasing each other, and that they had done it before. It was rather fascinating; he had never seen Weyoun behave in this manner.

"Oh, I wouldn't dream of it," he chuckled softly.

"Well then, I think I will follow the Major's leave and retire for the night." Trying not to wince, Kilana stood up, and promptly stumbled. She would have fallen to the floor if Weyoun had not caught her.

"Kilana, are you alright?" The teasing tone was gone, and there was now genuine concern in his voice. Embarrassed, she nevertheless held onto him until she had steadied herself, and attempted to look at both men reassuringly.

"Just a little stiff," she told Weyoun, whose teasing manner quickly returned.

"Perhaps we could have one of the Jem'Hadar carry you to your quarters –"

She narrowed her eyes at him. "You really think you're amusing, don't you?"

He smirked at her. "Just a little."

"I don't suppose _you'd_ accompany me, since you obviously have so little faith in my ability to walk at the moment? It might be marginally more dignified…"

"Fine, just don't expect to carry you," he said, and they both chuckled.

"Well then," Dukat said, and they both looked up, as if surprised he was still there. Clearly, he could tell, they had been off in their own little world. He was finding their interactions increasingly intriguing. "I'll bid you both a good evening. Unless, my dear Kilana, you require my assistance as well…"

"We can manage," Weyoun said quickly, as Dukat expected. He nodded, his expression a puzzlement to both of them, and exited Quark's.

"What was that odd look on his face?" Kilana mused. Weyoun shrugged.

"I have no idea." He offered her his arm. "Shall we?" She rolled her eyes, but she found herself leaning on him slightly for support as they made their way to her quarters. Once there, he deposited her gently on the couch, and then looked at her squarely, folding his arms across his chest.

"Alright. Say it."

Feigning ignorance, she gave him a blank look. "Say what?"

"That I was right. It was a bad idea."

She frowned. "It was not, and I will not."

"Oh come Kilana, you can barely walk –"

"I told you, I'm just a little stiff – ow!" She winced as her movements caused her pain. Instantly, he was seated by her side, rubbing her shoulders, undoing the knot that seemed to have formed in her back. She sighed, both in relief and acquiescence.

"Thank you," she said sincerely, if a bit petulantly. "And perhaps … you were right." She could practically hear him smirking, and hastened to add. "Partly."

"Partly?"

"Springball was not the best idea, but our conversation proved much more productive then the game. I might even venture to say that the Major rather likes me now."

"No small feat. What did you discuss?"

She turned her head slightly, pleased to find it no longer hurt as much. "Comparative religion."

"Oh?" Weyoun continued to knead her shoulders.

"Yes, it was really quite interesting."

He chuckled. "I'm sure it was."

"No really Weyoun, I think, given different circumstances, and perhaps even now, the Major might grow to consider me a … friend."

Surprised, his hand stilled, and he turned to fully face her.

"Ah. Well then … that is something. Alliances are important, but friendship can be even more valuable."

She smiled at him with understanding.

"Yes, they can."

"I really must say you are quite remarkable, Kilana. In all the time I've been here, I've not made any headway with her, to say nothing of the Cardassians, and yet within a month, you –"

"Oh come, Weyoun, Damar and Dukat… respect you – no really!" She added when he snorted disbelieving me. "After all they listened to you when you asked them to stop…"

Her voice trailed off abruptly, and they both looked away, suddenly embarrassed.

"I never did thank you for that," she said softly.

"There's no need," he demurred.

"If only you could do the same thing for poor Major Kira," she added, and they both laughed, the awkwardness dissolving. Weyoun stood up.

"Well," he said, "If you're certain you're alright."

"I'm fine, Weyoun."

"Goodnight then," he said warmly.

"Good night."

After he left, Kilana leaned back on the couch and sighed. After a moment, she gingerly got up, pleased to find she longer felt very stiff or sore, and got ready for bed. The lessening of her discomfort, of course, was due in no small part to the person who had previously been her only friend on her time on Deep Space Nine. And though she welcomed the prospect of friendship with the Bajoran woman for a multitude of reasons, it could never compare to her friendship with Weyoun, which spanned light years, life times, and several arguments, and yet still remained firmly intact.


	5. Chapter 4

Wrong

Chapter Four: Questions

*Author's Note: I've noticed that several people have favorited this fic, but only two people have bothered to review it. I don't mean to be whiny, but if you enjoy reading this, I'd really appreciate a brief comment. It only takes a minute and something as simple as "I like this and want more" will encourage updates. So please, if you're reading, leave a comment. Praise or criticism, I don't care – I thrive on feedback. Thanks.*

Kira watched as the female Vorta smiled at Gul Dukat, nodding in agreement with something he had said. He took her hand and touched it to his forehead (something the Bajoran knew he would never dare try with her) and took his leave of her. However, as soon as his back was turned, the smile left Kilana's face. She shook her hand, as if trying to rid of the distasteful residuals of his touch. Turning, she caught sight of the Major, and her smile returned, though Kira flattered herself that is was more genuine this time.

"Ah Major," she greeted her warmly. "I think you'll be pleased to know that Dukat has agreed to your request to increase the contingent of Bajoran security officers on the station." Kira was indeed pleased, but also surprised.

"But just yesterday he was adamantly refusing," she said, barely daring to believe it.

"I convinced him otherwise," Kilana shrugged, as if it were no great matter. "The additional officers will arrive at your discretion."

"Thank you," Kira said sincerely. Despite herself she was beginning to rather like the woman, especially given this most recent development. "I was just on my way to the habitat ring …"

"May I walk with you, Major?" She gave the woman a small smile.

"Of course."

They walked in comfortable silence for a few moments until Kira's curiosity got the better of her.

"Kilana, can I ask you something?"

"Whatever you like."

"Why do you do that? With Dukat?"

"Do what?"

"Smile at him, flatter at him, pretend he doesn't disgust you …"

Kilana's eyes widened. "I'm not pretending!"

Kira raised an eyebrow at her. "Really? 'Put a picture of Dukat's face on the ball and whack it around the holosuite?' Does that sound familiar?"

Kilana opened her mouth to protest, closed it abruptly, and sighed. "All right, so I'm pretending. And let me tell you, it's _exhausting_, because he's so … so …" She looked as though she couldn't come up with a word to adequately describe her distaste. Kira chuckled.

"You don't have to tell me." The Vorta looked at her with concern.

"You don't think he realizes, do you? That I'm pretending?" Kira shook her head.

"Oh, I don't think you have to worry about that. I mean, he labors under the delusion that I _like_ him, deep down, and unlike you, I make no secret of my contempt for him. Besides which, you're very skilled at deception. For all I know, you could be pretending to like me as well."

Kilana stopped. "I'm not," she said, sounding wounded. If it was an act, it was a very convincing one. The Major sighed.

"I'm … sorry. I don't really think you are. I suppose I've observed enough of the Vorta to know when you're being genuine and when you're just being … polite," she finished diplomatically. "But I still … I just don't understand … why you feel the need to be so 'polite' to him in the first place." Kilana looked thoughtful.

"Oh I don't know, things just seems things go more smoothly when I'm … 'polite,'" Kilana said, with a bit of smirk. "Men like Dukat, with their inflated egos, thrive on flattery, and if I have to subject myself to a little bit of unwanted attention in service of the Dominion, it's a small price to pay. Though sometimes I do wonder if that man has any redeeming qualities …"

"Well, there's one," Kira said grudgingly. "He does genuinely love his daughter."

Kilana looked slightly awkward. "Yes well, I'll take your word for it. I wouldn't know about that sort of thing."

"What do you mean?"

Surprised, Kilana stopped again and turned to face the Major. "The Vorta reproduce by cloning, Major. We are 'born,' as you might call it, as fully formed adults, ready to work in service to the Founders any way we can. So the whole concept of children, and the parent-child bond is … somewhat foreign to us. Forgive me, but I thought you knew this."

"No … I mean, I knew individual Vorta were cloned repeatedly, but I didn't realize you'd given up, ah, natural reproduction altogether."

"Well, cloning is much more efficient. And it gives individual Vorta the chance to accumulate lifetimes of experience."

"Speaking of which, how many 'lifetimes of experience' do you have?"

"Counting this current one? Just three."

"So Weyoun has two lifetimes on you." Kira watched as her expression brightened at the mention of her fellow Vorta's name.

"Yes, and he'd never let me forget it either." Yet there was no hint of irritation in her voice, only the fondness Kira always observed when she spoke of him. The Vorta shook her head. "Honestly, I'm surprised more species haven't turned to cloning as a means of reproduction. It's much less complicated than standard procreation."

"Less complicated, maybe, but not nearly as much fun."

Kilana chuckled. "Well, I'll take your word for that."

"Really? You mean Vorta don't um … form attachments to each other? Romantic attachments?"

"Of course not," Kilana scoffed. "We live our lives to serve the Founders, nothing else matters."

"Really?" Kira said without thinking. "I mean, I could have sworn that you and Weyoun…"

Kilana looked at her, uncomprehending."That we what?"

"Well, the way you interact, the way you look at each other, I guess I just assumed that there was some …history there."

She still looked confused. "We've worked together before, if that's what you mean."

"No, I don't mean that kind of history." Why was she pushing this? "I'm talking about … you know, personal involvement." She finally seemed to understand, and the look that came over her face was one Kira could only describe as scandalized.

"Wait, what? No … that's just… no! You don't understand … that's just … not … done."

_Not done?_ Kira thought. _As is, it's forbidden?_ Would the Founders really forbid the Vorta to form loving or sexual relationships with each other? _Of course they would. Any attention or affection they focused on each other might take away from their devotion to the Founders. So no families. No parents, no children, and certainly no spouses or lovers._

It was almost … sad.

She did not articulate any of this to Kilana, however.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to offend you –"

"No, no, you haven't, I just … I'm actually glad you brought this up, since you were apparently laboring under a misconception about myself and …" The Vorta cleared her throat, "a great many things. I only hope no one else on the station would draw such erroneous conclusions." Kira wasn't so sure about that, but she hastened to reassure her.

"I wouldn't worry about it …" she began, but broke off, turning as Kilana's eyes widened. Following her gaze, she saw Weyoun approaching them. Remembering that the Vorta had excellent hearing, she couldn't help but wonder how much he had overheard. She glanced back at her companion, who looked as though she would rather be anywhere else – and then, almost instantly, a smooth impassiveness settled over her features. The uncomfortable expression seemed no more than a flicker, almost making Kira think she had imagined it, as she smiled serenely.

"Major, Kilana …" Weyoun paused, his expression going from pleased to concerned as he observed the latter, who to almost anyone else would have appeared to the picture of composure.

"What's wrong?" He asked her.

"Nothing," she answered quickly. He shook his head.

"No, really, what's wrong?"

"I'll just let the two of you talk," Kira said, cutting Kilana off when she tried to protest. "No really, it's late and I'm tired … thanks again for your help!" She walked away quickly, feeling a curious combination of contrition and amusement.

Weyoun's puzzled gaze followed her, and then he turned back to Kilana.

"Did you say something to upset you?"

"You might say that …"

"I thought she'd be pleased Dukat agreed to more Bajoran officers on the station."

"She is, it's just, after I informed her, we fell into more casual conversation, and she … it was just … a very odd series of questions…"

"What kind of questions?"

Kilana looked him square in the eye with every intention of answering, and then found herself saying: "You know, it's not important. She meant no harm. And she's right, it is late, I think I'll just go to … sleep. Goodnight." Anticipating his offer to walk with her back to the habitat ring, she quickly brushed past, striding purposefully towards her quarters, leaving him standing there, looking as puzzled as she felt.

_Ridiculous_, she thought as she entered her quarters. _Absolutely ridiculous. Not to mention impossible._ Just because she had a long-established … friendship … with a colleague, it didn't mean …

No, she wasn't going to think about this anymore. Clearly, the Major was projecting. Or something. She was going to sleep, and then was going to wake up in the morning and pretend that thoroughly preposterous conversation had never happened.

She set about preparing for bed, first removing her earrings. As always, when she took them off, she held them in her hands for a moment, trying to summon the memories that should accompany them. She only knew that she had acquired them sometime in a previous life, but could recall nothing else.

She assumed one of her memory files had somehow been damaged or partially erased during transfer to one of her more recent incarnations; it was known to happen. All she had was a feeling that, somehow, the earrings were important, and that wearing them made her feel strangely … content. Normally, Vorta did not trouble over such frivolities as jewelry, but it wasn't as though wearing them interfered with her duties, and so she allowed herself this small, if not entirely understood, indulgence. Though she did often wish she remembered…

Putting her introspection aside, she disrobed, washed, and put on the more loose-fitting garments that served as her sleeping clothes. She closed her eyes and fell asleep almost instantly, as Vorta usually did. And like all Vorta, when she slept, she rarely dreamed, and when she dreamed, she rarely remembered it.

For this, she was grateful.


	6. Chapter 5

Wrong

Chapter Five: Memories and Manipulations

*Author's Note: Underlined text indicates actual show dialogue.*

"Do you have any gods, Captain Sisko?"

"There are... things I believe in."

"Duty? Starfleet, the Federation? You must be pleased with yourself. You have the ship to take back to them. I hope it was worth it."

"So do I."

_She smiles at him, sadly, as she beams away. Somehow, it seems important to smile. It occurs to her that his might very well be the last face she ever sees, and so … she smiles._

_She is beamed into the small station that serves as a sort of holding area for Vorta who are "between assignments." Another time, she might be amused at the irony._

_But not now._

_It seems the screams of the Founder, the dying cries of her god, still echo in her head. And when she closes her eyes she sees them, her Jem'Hadar: she makes eye contact with the First. She knows what he is going to do, but she wants to prevent it. The ship – surely they should at least re-take the ship? They cannot indulge in their grief, they must –_

"First, no – wait!"_ But it's too late, and he falls to the ground beside her. The others follow quickly, and then she's turning, watching, helpless, each new thud of a body on the ground making her shudder. She stands there, frozen among the corpses, and for a moment that seems an eternity, she fears she will never be able to move again. That this will be her punishment for her inexcusable failure, to be forever suspended in grief, in pain –_

_Back on the station, Kilana closes her eyes. She will not allow herself to cry. She will not permit herself even that small relief; she does not deserve it. Instead, she does what she needs to do._

_She completes a memory file, for informational purposes if nothing else, and prepares to transport it, along with the vial containing the Founder's remains, back to the Dominion. She hesitates for a moment, and then she takes her earrings off, and places them in the container as well, stroking them lovingly. She doesn't know why. She never knows why. It's silly, but she thinks perhaps … perhaps Eris would like them?_

_Somehow, that idea is comforting._

_Like all Vorta, she has always been told that voluntary termination is swift and painless._

_But in that place, desolate and alone, as she drops to the floor and gasps her last breaths, she learns it's not true._

_The next thing she clearly remembers, she's sitting in small quarters on one of the Dominion worlds. As is normal, she doesn't fully recall her 'rebirth;' she seems to have a very hazy memory of Eris escorting her there, explaining to her astonished companion, that no, the Founders had decided not to delete her template after all, that yes, she was very much alive and was going to stay that way, and no, she wasn't sure how quickly she would get a new assignment, and _"Will you please just rest now, Kilana? Promise you'll get some sleep? Promise me?"

_But after Eris leaves, she finds she cannot keep her promise. She sits, staring at the vial that contains the Founder's remains. Why had they even returned it to her? Probably so she would always be reminded of her failure, which is what she deserved. But even more importantly, why had they decided to clone her again in the first place? How could the Founders possibly still consider her worthy to serve them after –_

_The door chime sounds, and she glances up, surprised. Eris, perhaps, checking on her? _"Enter."

_The door opens, and a Vorta enters her quarters, but it is not Eris. It is Weyoun. They look at each other for what seems to be the longest time, and then she turns away, once again contemplating the vial in her hand. He sits down beside her, and they are silent for what seems to be an ever longer time, until he finally speaks._

"How are you feeling?"

_She does not look at him. _"Shocked to be alive,"_ she says softly. She does not add _devastated, unworthy, grief-stricken,_ but she does not have to. _"I was certain they would delete my template after …"_ she can't finish._

"Something you should know … about the Founder,"_ he says, and she turns to look at him. _"While we were cloning you, the contents of the vial were analyzed. It …"_ He pauses briefly, and then continues. _"It was determined that the Founder would have died regardless of whether you had rescued him or not. The damage to his morphogenic matrix was too great to be repaired. Even if you had gotten him off the ship, there was nothing you could have done."

"Ah. So that's why I'm still here."_ Her continued existence was finally starting to make sense._

"Yes, I imagine in played a rather … large part in the Founders' decision not to permanently terminate you. Does knowing that … make you feel any better?"

"What do you think?"

_And then … and then she doesn't remember so well, but somehow she is in his arms, shaking, sobbing, saying _"I should've done something different, I should have said something different, I should have trusted Sisko, I should have … at least if I had gotten him out, he wouldn't have died alone, surrounded by people who despised him! At least he would have died with us! I should've, I should've …" _and then she isn't able to speak anymore and dissolves completely into tears, burying her face in his chest, soaking his shirt, and he is holding her tighter and stroking her hair, muttering words of comfort, telling her it isn't her fault, telling her there was nothing she could have done, telling her she is still a worthy servant of their gods and always will be…_

_And so her sobs slowly subside, and she settles more comfortably into his embrace, and she finally fulfills her promise to Eris, and falls asleep in his arms._

_Sleep leaves her slowly in the morning, but once she is fully awake, her eyes widen, looking up at him._

"Weyoun?"

"Hm?" _His eyes flutter open. _"Oh, uh … good morning?"

"Good morning," _she echoes uncertainly._ "What are you still doing here?"

"Well, you fell asleep, and I was worried if I moved, I'd wake you …" _His voice trails off. She notices, suddenly, that they are still very close together, so close that she can feel the warmth of his breath on her face when he speaks. He seems to come to the same realization simultaneously, and they hastily pull apart._

"That was very … considerate of you, not to disturb my sleep. Thank you for that, and …" _She is not quite sure how to finish._ _She runs a hand through her hair, suddenly feeling self-conscious._

_The comm chimes suddenly, and they both start at the sound. After a moment, Kilana hits the panel to reply, and she hears Eris' distinctive voice, telling her to report for her new assignment. Somehow, she has a new ship with a full complement of Jem'Hadar. Her fellow Vorta's voice grows slightly regretful, however, as she informs Kilana she and her new soldiers will leave immediately for the front lines. She acknowledges the message and turns the comm off._

"Well," _Kilana says after a beat, with an attempt at levity. _"Apparently my latest life could be a rather short one …"

_Weyoun looks at her._ "That is not amusing, Kilana," _he says softly._ _She shrugs._

"It's more than I deserve."

"I don't think so."

_She looks at him sharply then._ "Do you question the will of the Founders?" _Instantly chastised, he hastens to answer._

"No! No, of course not. I serve the Founders in all things."

"As do I." _She sighs, and then smiles at him apologetically._ "Forgive me, I just –"

"It's fine," _He smiles back, and then they both stand._

"Well," _he says._

"Well," _she echoes. His expression growing serious, he takes both of her hands in both of his._

"I will miss you, dear one."_ She looks at him then, a bit surprised, not at the sentiment, but at the admission of it._

"I… I will miss you too … I suppose," _she adds teasingly, drawing the desired return of his smile from in response. _"Hopefully, it will not be another lifetime until we see each other again."

Kilana opened her eyes, resigned to the fact that she would sleep no more. It was only a few hours before she had to get up anyway. Perhaps that was best, though it was not dreams, but memories that plagued her. Why she should recall such things now…

She heaved a sigh. "Enough of this," she said out loud, and got out of bed. If she wasn't going to sleep, she could at least use her time productively. Their were reports to be reviewed, background studies on Alpha Quadrant that could be perused – nothing urgent, but still, better than trying to fall asleep again, tossing and turning, unable to find a comfortable position.

And yet, strangely, she had felt quite comfortable in his arms. It had been … familiar, somehow, and …safe.

Well, that wasn't right. That didn't even make sense. A kind gesture from a fellow Vorta should not have made her feel safer and more secure than a full ship's complement of Jem'Hadar at her command.

Clearly, she was misremembering her feelings. Yes, that had to be it. After all, things tended to be muddled the first few hours after a new clone was activated. So there really wasn't anything wrong with her after all. Good.

Surely, she could put all this foolishness behind her now. Really, it was quite ridiculous that she had let the Major's wrong-headed assumptions get to her. She should have anticipated something like that.

After all, unlike the Jem'Hadar, the Vorta had been engineered to be similar to most of the Solids the Founders has encountered – two genders, requiring food, drink and sleep – in order to give those other races a "familiar face" to deal with, something to put them at ease. It was only when those other races looked beneath the surface similarities that they realized the Vorta were very different from them, and by then, they had usually been dealt with, one way or another. Clearly, she had presumed too much in thinking the Major had already understood those differences.

But it was not as though there was any harm done. She had something approaching friendship with the Major, and she had no desire to see the progress she had made with the Bajoran backslide simply because of a small misunderstanding. Even as she acknowledged that forming a friendship with her would make it easier to discover any illicit activities on her part, which Kilana still strongly suspected her of, she had to admit that she genuinely liked the woman. Although she was a different species than Captain Sisko, they both had a directness about them that she had learned to appreciate. And then of course, there was her friendship with the Founder…

She still could not think of him as Odo. Weyoun was bolder than she was; he could call their god by a name, a Bajoran name at that, given to him when they were ignorant of his true status as a deity. Sometimes when she let herself think about it, it was so strange to her, that she should be forming a friendship with a woman who had her own friendship with one of her gods, someone who looked on him not as a god at all, but an equal. Not that she took issue with the Major's attitude towards him, exactly; after all, the Founders were the gods of the Vorta and the Jem'Hadar, not the Bajorans or other Alpha Quadrant races. It just all seemed a bit bizarre…

She was started out of her reverie by the sound of the door chime. _I hope it's not Weyoun,_ she thought immediately, then just as quickly chastised herself for the thought. So what if it was? It wouldn't matter.

"Enter." It was Major Kira. Kilana smiled to herself at the irony.

"Major, good morning."

Taking in the Vorta's tidy appearance and array of PADDs on the table, Kira said, "Oh good, I was worried I might wake you, but it looks like you been up for a while."

"Yes, a little while." She gestured to one of the chairs facing the couch. "Please Major, sit, and tell me what I can do for you."

Kira sighed and sat down. "Do you ever get tired of it?"

Kilana tilted her head at her. "Tired of what?"

"Being so damn pleasant all the time?"

She stiffened. "Forgive me, I didn't realize my attitude was so off-putting to you…"

"No, no … that," Kira sounded almost apologetic, "That came out wrong. Look, I'm sorry, I just had another run-in with Dukat, and he …" she shuddered slightly, "reminded me of how powerless I am, and I just…" Her voice trailed off and she shook her head, looking weary and sad. Kilana studied her for a moment. It didn't take long for her to figure it out.

"You are not powerless, Kira," she said softly, her voice full of seeming sympathy, and when she saw the smirk flicker across the other woman's face at the use of her name rather than her title, her suspicions were confirmed. "After all, you still have your intelligence. You are clever enough to come here and try to manipulate me with this story."

The Major looked up at her then, her eyes giving her away. "Have you even talked to Dukat this morning, Major? Or did you make up this story I would advocate on your behalf, march up to Dukat and accuse of him being his usual vile self, to create a rift between us? So that he would not respond to my flattery and mistrust me the way he mistrusts Weyoun?"

Kira looked at her, then quickly away. Kilana continued undeterred. "Have you ever heard that quaint human expression, 'shooting yourself in the foot?' You do realize, Major, that the last favor he granted me, just yesterday, was one I asked for on your behalf? And yet you repay me by attempting to manipulate and undermine me?" Angry now, Kira fired back.

"Have _you_ ever heard the 'quaint' human expression 'Turnabout is fair play?' You manipulated me first! You've been manipulating me all along! Playing Springball – badly, I might add – mentioning Ziyal, making me feel sympathy, maybe even kinship with you because of the way Dukat treated you? Are you going to tell me you just did all that because you were lonely and wanted a friend? You did it because you want to keep tabs on me, admit it!"

"Yes," Kilana said softly. "But 'keeping tabs' on you wasn't the only reason, Major. I have so few friends here –"

"One," the Major said pointedly.

"One," Kilana conceded. "And whatever you may believe, quite aside from politics, it would be nice to have another. I thought perhaps I could … that I was making you see … that things are not as black and white as you make them out to be, Major. Good, bad, right, wrong, friend, enemy … is there no in between? Yes, I was manipulating you. But I genuinely like you. I like that you are direct and defiant and utterly loyal to who and what you believe in. You may not relish the comparison, but in some ways you remind me of my old First, Temat'laka. He had a similarly … uncompromising nature."

She smiled, almost fondly. "And I like that you do not mock me for my beliefs. Dukat and the others are always making subtle jabs at Weyoun and me; I think they find it endlessly amusing that we consider the Founders gods. But you respect my faith, Major, as I do yours. I am sorry you are so frustrated here that you felt you must resort to such tactics to sew seeds of discord between the Dominion and the Cardassians, if only in some small way. You aren't nearly as good at it as I am, Major, and what's more, it doesn't suit you."

Kira regarded her with a strange mixture of anger and respect. She shook her head. "I don't know what to make of you, Kilana," she said ruefully. "You are sincere in one breath and devious in the next. The only thing I'm certain of about you is your complete and utter devotion to your gods … oh, and the fact that you care for Weyoun very deeply."

Kira saw her expression change, growing vunerable, uncertain and it gave her a petty satisfaction to know she had gotten to the Vorta with that last comment. But as before, Kilana quickly composed herself.

"Now who's being devious, Major?" She asked evenly.

Kira smiled tightly. "I guess I'm learning from you." They studied each other now, uncertain of their standing, of where to go from here.

"Perhaps … we could skip all this devious manipulation and try to be more honest with each other about our motivations?" Kilana asked hopefully.

Kira regarded her coolly. "Do you think you can manage that?"

"I can try." Kilana held out her hand. "Major?"

After a moment, Kira took it. She nodded. "All right then," she said. "No, Dukat hasn't bothered me today, yet."

Kilana smiled. "I know. There's no way you'd come to me about it anyway; if he'd really pushed you to that point, you'd have tossed him out of airlock already."

"I still might." Although neither of them laughed, the tension seemed to be dissipating, for which she was grateful. Kira stood up.

"I'll see you at the meeting then." She stood up and turned to leave. Then, at the door, she turned back.

"Oh, and one more thing. It's very clear to me now that you feel something for Weyoun, something that you are not permitted to feel by your less-than-merciful gods. And I'd be willing to bet he feels the same way." Kilana started to protest, but Kira held up her hand. "You might be able to deal with it better if you at least admitted it to yourself, even if you can't admit it to me. Oh, and in the interest on honoring our new agreement, yes, I am saying this to rattle you."

The Vorta's face might as well have been stone. "I'm afraid it's not working."

Kira gave her a penetrating look. "Isn't it?"

Kilana's eyes dropped. "I'll see you in a few hours Major," she said softly. Kira nodded and left.

Kilana, meanwhile closed her eyes and tried very hard to think of anything but the Major's parting words.

It didn't work.


	7. Chapter 6

Wrong

Chapter Six: Memories and Mistakes

*Author's Note: Okay, this is a long chapter. I'm hoping it's not too melodramatic. Please review!*

"Consider carefully, Minister Essara. Consider exactly how much the Dominion is offering you before making your final recommendation to the Council."

_Kilana's voice is pleasant, light, friendly, with just the faintest hint of menace. She favors the minister with her disarming smile, and Weyoun feels a certain sense of pride, knowing her natural abilities have been tempered by his guidance. She has done well here on Calia; she has hardly needed his help at all. Her natural vulnerability, empathy, even the occasional slips in self-confidence – these potential flaws have turned out to be assets, endearing her to the Minister and his constituents. Sometimes, he is not sure whether she is really so innocent, so inexperienced, or whether she is merely pretending to be; her record indicates that she has never taken on negotiations on behalf of the Dominion, at least, not at this level, not of this magnitude. But he finds that difficult to believe, watching her work her magic now, drawing Essara in._

"What if the Calia decide not to join the Dominion?"

_He could step in now, but he doesn't. Instead, he watches as the smile falls from Kilana's face, her expression turning from seductive to deadly._ "That would be most … unfortunate," _she says, and the dark undercurrent to her tone is not lost on the minister. Then she smiles again, throwing him off balance._ "Which is why we hope your government will accept our offer. We would be honored to have your people join us as Dominion citizens."

"Because our resources are valuable to you," _Essara says warily. Undeterred, Kilana nods._

"Yes, that is a large part of it. And our resources, to say nothing of our protection, are valuable to you as well. A mutually beneficial arrangement for all considered, is it not?"

"It …would seem so. Besides, if we don't agree … you … you will send in the Jem'Hadar, won't you?"

_Kilana flinches almost imperceptibly, and Weyoun, detecting the crack in her placid demeanor, quickly steps in._

"Minister, I really wish you wouldn't think of the Jem'Hadar like that,"_ he demurs, moving forward._ "Imagine them instead protecting the sovereignty of your borders, claiming victory and vengeance from your enemies ..."_ Here, he sees the Ministers eyes light up, and allows himself a small smile as he continues. _"Everything you want, everything you need…" _He turns to Kilana and lets her finish._

"Yours for the taking," _she fairly purrs._

"All you have to do is join us," _Weyoun adds smoothly. And then, with just the right hint of menace: _"After all, why risk being our enemy…"

"When you can be our friend instead," _Kilana finishes for him. They give him a moment to consider. Essara tells them he will recommend to the council that the Calians join the Dominion._

"Excellent." _Weyoun beams._

"Well, I can't guarantee they'll follow my recommendation…"

"Oh, I'm sure they'll do whatever Janito Essara recommends," _Kilana says smoothly._

"It may take several days…"

"We can wait," _Weyoun says._

"Unless you'd like us to leave your planet while the Council is in deliberations, of course," _Kilana says, putting the just the right amount of hurt in her tone, looking just the right amount of personally wounded, and it works beautifully._

"No, no of course not, my dear. You and Weyoun may stay as long as you like. I only wish our accommodations were more suitable_," he claps her hand in his, and she smiles, then looks down with seeming coyness._

"I think your accommodations are charming, Minister. I have never seen such simple, elegant beauty as I have here." _To accentuate the point, she touches her Calian earrings, the ones given to her by the Minister himself. Her words aren't sincere; they can't be. Like all Vorta, she has no idea what is beautiful and what is not, having no sense of aesthetics. _

_But like all Vorta, she can certainly pretend that she does, if the situation warrants it._

_After the Minster takes his leave of them, Weyoun turns to her and smiles, a genuine one this time. He is pleased with her and expects her to be just as pleased with herself, but as she meets his gaze, her expression is troubled._

"I shouldn't have reacted so, when he mentioned the Jem'Hadar."

_Weyoun sighs._ "One little mistake…" _She turns from him, walking away to stare out the window of the room._

"I don't like making mistakes," _she says, staring out at the greenery before her. He supposes she would find it beautiful if she could._

"Well, you'd better get used to it," _Weyoun says, coming to stand beside her,_ "because you're going to keep making them until the day your template is deleted. The important thing is that you learn from them."

"So … even you, with two lifetimes more experience than I, are still making mistakes?" _Her tone is slightly teasing._

"Well, yes, every now and then" _he concedes with a little smirk. She looks at him pensively, and then turns back to the window._

"What are you thinking?" _He asks gently. _

_Without turning to look back at him, she responds._ "I am trying to picture the Jem'Hadar in this place," _she says softly._

"And?"

"And I don't like what I see. I don't like the idea of them here, taking this planet and fighting these people into submission."

"Nor do I," _Weyoun admits,_ "But our orders are to bring the Calians into the Dominion – by diplomacy if possible, by force if necessary. It is the will of the Founders…"

"And we serve the Founders in all things," _Kilana replies dutifully. She turns away from the window, walks over to the couch, and sits down before looking back up at him._

"You know, when we began here, you told me waiting was the hardest part, and I didn't … I didn't quite believe you."

"And now?"

"And now I see you were right. Waiting_ is_ the hardest part. It's only been a few minutes, and already it feels like an eternity_." He sits down beside her._

"Whatever the Calians decide, we will face the consequences of their decision together," _he reassures her. _"And regardless of their decision, Kilana, know that you have done extremely well here. The Founders would be proud of you." _She smiles, if a bit uncertainly. They sit in silence for a moment until – _

"Weyoun?"

"Yes?"

"Are … are you proud of me?"

_The question surprises him, but he answers quickly._ "Very much so. You have done remarkably well her, dear one." _She beams at him then, and Weyoun understands how the Minister can be so easily swayed by something as simple as her smile. How could anyone refuse her?_

_The Founders were wise, he hastily reminds himself, to make her this way._

_When the Calians accept their offer to join the Dominion, he is delighted by her giddy happiness and relief. To him, this is just another negotiation successfully completed, but it's all new to her, and he finds he enjoys seeing it through her eyes. It takes several months to wrap up the details, but they work so well together it hardly seems like any time at all, and soon enough, they are leaving to report back to the Dominion._

"I suppose you will be removing those … things now," _he says to her, on their last night on Calia._

"What things? Oh, the earrings?" _She touches one, almost self-consciously._ "Oh, I don't know. I think they rather suit me, don't you?"

_Weyoun chuckles._ "You know I have no idea, dear one." _The term of endearment, one the Calians use so often, is something he finds himself using with her more and more now. He supposes there is no real harm in them picking up a few traits or trinkets from these people when you come right down to it; he can keep the words, she can keep the earrings._

_Curious now, he reaches out to touch one. She shakes her head, playfully, laughing, and her movements cause his hand to brush against her cheek. Her eyes widen slightly, and suddenly, neither of them are smiling or laughing, but staring at each other, quite serious…_

_And that is the last he remembers of their time on Calia._

_Lifetimes later, he sees those same earrings. But now, it is Eris holding one up to her ear._

"What do you think?" _She asks with forced levity._

"You know I have no idea," _he mutters, annoyed._ _He hesitates, and then adds, _"But somehow…"

"Yes?"

"Somehow they don't suit you."

_Eris sighs and puts the earring down._ "I will wear them anyway," _she says,_ "In remembrance."

_He hates it. He hates that her voice sounds so sad, and yet so calm, so resigned_. "I think Kilana would like that," _she continues in the same tone._ "Don't you think she would –"

"Stop it!" _He snaps at her._ "Stop talking about her like she's already gone!"

_Eris looks at him evenly. She has been cloned nearly twice as many times as he has, and among all the Vorta, she has been the only one gifted with telekinetic abilities, albeit temporarily. Both the addition and removal of said abilities had been extremely painful; it has been said among their people that her screams were heard halfway across the galaxy, especially when the 'gift' was taken away, after her mission to spy on the Federation failed. And yet she bore it all with admirable grace, and strength. And just as he had served as a mentor of sorts to Kilana, so Eris had served, a lifetime or so ago, as a similar type of guide to him. Normally, these facts cause his attitude towards her to be respectful, almost deferential. Still, she doesn't take offense to his rancor._

"Unless the results of the computer scan show that the Founder would not have survived even if she had succeeded in her mission, she_ is_ already gone, Weyoun. And even if they do, the fact that she let the ship pass into Starfleet's hands –"

"That was not her fault! The Jem'Hadar on the surface killed themselves, and the ones remaining on her ship initiated the self-destruct sequence! There was no way she could have stopped –"

"Listen, I agree with you, alright?" _Eris says, her voice rising, her calm, reasonable demeanor finally falling away._ "This isn't easy, for me either, Weyoun! You aren't the only one who was her friend!"

_They glare at each other for a moment, and then Weyoun lowers his gaze, chastened._

"I'm sorry," _he says,_ "It's just …"

_Eris puts a comforting hand on his shoulder._ "I know," _she says softly._ "It's alright. Perhaps I am wrong, to think we should let go of any hope." _She sighs and leans back in her chair, weary now. The sit in silence for a few moments, until a thought occurs to him._

"Eris, have you ever known anyone who's been … permanently deleted?"

_She looks at him then, and he sees the pain flash in her eyes, almost breathtaking in its intensity, before the serene mask slips back into place._

"Yes," _she says softly, looking away._

"What was his name?" _He doesn't know why he assumes the gender to be male, but it turns out he is right, as she answers:_

"Enyo."

"Do you still think of him?"

"Sometimes," _she says wistfully. Then she shakes her head, as if to clear it of introspection._

"I'm tired, Weyoun. I'm going to bed. The results of the scan should be ready in the morning. You know, you should probably get some rest too … but you aren't going to, are you?" _She asks, correctly interpreting his expression._

"I don't think I could."

_She nods her understanding. She would wait with him for the results, but somehow, she thinks he prefers to wait alone. She leaves the earrings beside him, and takes her leave._

He does not remember any more. He recalls being quite anxious for the results of the scan, but as to actually seeing them, he cannot recall. He is used to gaps and imperfections in his memory; it is one of the hazards any Vorta faces, being cloned so many times. The results must have been favorable, since Kilana is alive, and here now, with him, on this station.

There's nothing wrong with that, is there? That her presence pleases him? Surely there isn't, any more than there is with the silly little earrings she wears or the silly little term of endearment he sometimes still finds herself using with her…

They were in a meeting together with Dukat, Kira, Damar, and the two Founders, but she wouldn't quite meet his eyes, and he found he didn't like it. She was troubled, and she wouldn't tell him why.

Then the Female Founder spoke, and he mentally chastised himself for not focusing his full attention on the matter at hand.

"Our main facility for the production of Ketracel-White has been destroyed by the Federation," she said without preamble. Even her normally serene voice and attitude had an edge to them now. While Kira and Odo tried to cover their delight, the rest of them, himself included, reacted with anger and shock.

"But how?" Kilana blurted out without thinking. She had rarely spoken in either of the Founders' presence, though he had encouraged her to do so. Now, he wished he hadn't, as the Female Founder fixed her with an angry stare.

"How?" She asked coldly. "The ship you _handed_ to Starfleet last year was used by Captain Sisko to infiltrate our territory; _that_ is how." Kilana's eyes widened in horror, and she opened her mouth to speak, to somehow explain.

"I –"

"Not enough that you allowed a Changeling to die," the Female Founder said, advancing on Kilana, who bowed her head and trembled, but could not bring herself to back away. "Now you may have cost us the entire Alpha Quadrant –"

Before Weyoun realized it, he was speaking, daring to interrupt her. "Surely, Captain Sisko is the one who is truly to blame for –"

The Founder turned and fixed him with a withering glare. He shrank back, bowing his head, deeply ashamed. The Female Founder then turned her anger and her focus back to Kilana.

"Do you realize what you have done? What your failure may cost us? What –"

"That's enough!" Odo snapped, and the Female Founder turned to look at him. His 'plan' to influence the new Vorta had come to nothing; she seemed completely intimidated and awe of him, even more so than Weyoun, barely daring to speak in his presence, almost afraid to meet his gaze at times, and it made him even more uncomfortable than Weyoun's attitude did. So he found himself, in these tedious meetings, taking pains never to address her directly.

But even so, he felt he could not stand idly by while his fellow Changeling emotionally gutted this woman. Kilana had done her best to influence Dukat in their favor, and she seemed to be forming a friendship of sorts with Kira. Besides, whatever mistakes she had made, she did not deserve to be degraded and humiliated in this manner, in front of everyone.

The Female Founder titled her head at Odo. "Do you think so?" She asked. Her tone softened, as it always did when he spoke to her, but there was still a dangerous edge to it that made both Vorta fearful. Odo, however, met her gaze evenly, not the least bit intimidated.

"I do," he said. "I think this … meeting should continue when everyone has had a chance to process this new information." Dukat looked extremely displeased, but resigned. Damar started to protest, but the Female Founder waved her hand dismissively, and Dukat glared at him until he reluctantly fell silent.

"Very well, Odo," the Female Founder said, her tone now very mild. "We shall continue this tomorrow. Walk with me?"

Odo nodded reluctantly. As they made to leave the conference room however, the Founder's eyes met Kilana's one more time.

"You are a great … disappointment," she said softly, and Kilana flinched, reeling back as if she had been physically struck, tears streaming down her face.

The Female Founder swept imperiously from the room. Odo hesitated for a moment, looking as though he might say something conciliatory to Kilana, but seemed to think better of it, and followed her out. Damar left shortly after, muttering something about checking the reports and growling Cardassian curses under his breath.

Kira stared at her … friend? … and could not help but feel profoundly sorry for her. Even with her joy at Captain Sisko's success, she could not really relish this moment. Weyoun was also staring at Kilana, looking more stricken by her unhappiness than the news that had caused it. She thought of how she would feel in the female Vorta's place, and she moved towards her, thinking perhaps somehow she should try and comfort –

Dukat's eyes met hers, and he shook his head, almost imperceptibly. The message was clear: _Let him comfort her; he's the only one who can. _And he was right, she realized, as a rare moment of understanding passed between them, and so they left Weyoun and Kilana alone in the room.

The door closed behind them, and Dukat shook his head. "I should be furious," he said. "I should be just as angry as that shape shifter, but somehow … I just … that was so …"

"Brutal," Kira finished for him. He nodded emphatically.

"I can't believe Weyoun dared to try and defend her…"

"Can't you?"

"Actually, I suppose I can. He's quite … protective of her. Sometimes, I think, people grow to care for each other, even despite themselves."

He looked pointedly at Kira, and was not surprised when he saw her anger flare. Their brief moment of understanding had passed all too quickly.

"Not always," Kira said.

Dukat reached out his hand to caress her cheek. She recoiled, of course, but he flattered himself that she did not do so as quickly as she had before, and in his arrogant mind, that was progress. She turned on her heel and strode away from him, and he sighed, watching her go.

Meanwhile, in the conference room, Kilana had moved to stare out the window, fighting a losing battle with her tears, trying to keep herself from shaking. Weyoun stood just behind her, trying and failing to find the words to somehow make this better. All he could say was her name:

"Kilana…"

"Don't," she said softly, struggling to keep her voice from shaking. "Don't try to comfort or console me. I don't deserve it."

"Kilana, this is not your fault –"

"Stop it," she hissed, closing her eyes, wanting to turn and face him, but afraid what would happen if she did. "You … I … I can't keep doing this, I can't keep …turning to you for … comfort. It's … it's not appropriate."

Weyoun stiffened at her words. "We … there's nothing … we aren't doing anything wrong," he said shakily, trying to convince himself as much as her. She still wouldn't look at him.

"Are you sure about that?" She whispered.

His put his hand on her shoulder, and she drew in a sharp breath at the contact. _I should shrug him off, tell him not to touch me_, she thought, but she didn't.

"Kilana …" he said softly. He hated to see her unhappy; he hated to see her cry. "Kilana, please, there's no harm in … just let me hold you." There was a slightly desperate edge to his voice now. "Just for a moment, I –"

She turned then, unable to resist the impulse any longer. Her arms went around him, and she put her head on his shoulder and just let the tears flow. His hand rubbed her back in a circular motion, trying to soothe her, and she heard him mutter, "Dear one, dear one, don't cry." She took a few deep breaths, trying desperately to compose herself, and then she pulled back, intending to leave before...

Only … his fingers brushed her cheek, tenderly wiping away a stray tear, and then … and then his thumb moved across her lips, which parted, as if by his command, and before either of them fully realized what was happening, they were kissing, as she yielded the intoxicating feeling of his lips against her own.


	8. Chapter 7

Wrong

Chapter Seven: Goodbye

*Author's Note: You will notice I upped the rating to M. Make of that what you will. I hope someone's still interested in this story. We're getting close to the end now! Hope this chapter came out okay, I had a little trouble with it. Please review.*

Neither Vorta could have imagined that the simple pressing together of their lips would flood their bodies with such unfamiliar, overwhelming sensations, and yet it did. Kilana's mind went blank; her senses were dead to everything but the pleasure of Weyoun's touch, and she moaned into his mouth, opening her own wider to meet the wet warmth of his tongue. His hands slid up and down the small of her back, drawing her closer, but even when she was pressed tight against him, it didn't seem they were close enough.

Her arms were twined around him, her lips pressed against his, her tongue dancing with his own, and he could not believe how good it felt, how good_ she_ felt, and when their lips finally parted it was only so they could catch their breath before hungrily capturing each other's mouths again. They kissed like this for a long time, and then he broke away, needing to taste more of her, kissing her cheek, nipping playfully at her chin before dragging his lips down her throat, nuzzling her, kissing her neck.

Her body seemed to sway against his, and she made a noise somewhere between a sigh and moan, wanting him, _needing_ him, his name on her lips like a prayer or a plea: "Weyoun…"

And it was this that stopped them. The way she said his name, it was so … almost … _worshipful_.

Wrong. Very wrong.

Her voice brought them back to reality, brought reality crashing back down, and they pulled apart, staring at each other in horror, shocked at what they had done. It took Kilana a long moment to find her voice.

"What … was that?"

He was backing away, shaking his head. "I … I don't know, I…"

"We … were not made for this." Kilana's voice rose. She was angry now, with him and with herself, and very much afraid. "We're not supposed to feel … to want … what is _wrong_ with me? What is wrong with _us_?"

"No, no, this is my fault, this is all my doing, not yours! Nothing is wrong with you. Nothing is wrong with us!"

"How can you say that?" She shouted. "We're _defective_, we must be! What other possible explanation is there for what just happened?"

He just stared at her. He had no answer, she knew. He looked into her stricken face, hating to be the cause of her pain. Without thinking, he moved forward, wishing only to comfort, to console –

"_Are you insane_?" Kilana hissed, backing away from him. "Don't … don't come near me, leave me alone! Don't touch me! It's bad enough we were …" She couldn't bring herself to describe what they had just been doing. Suddenly, the room was too small. She had to get out of there.

"Kilana – wait!" But she strode past him, practically running, her vision blurring with tears as she stalked through the corridors. How she managed to make it back to her quarters without stumbling and injuring herself, she'd never know.

She entered her quarters, wiping her eyes. _No more tears_, she told herself angrily, _that's what started this whole mess in the first place. _How could she have allowed something so very _wrong_ to happen? As if her failure with Sisko hadn't been enough … what she … what _they_ had been doing, it was …

What? Forbidden? No, that wasn't the right word. To forbid an action implied that someone might have the desire or the inclination to perform said action. And a Vorta's only desire and inclination was … was s_upposed _to be, to serve the Founders, their gods who had given them everything, who had raised them so high from their humble origins, who had given them power and virtual immortality…

She wanted nothing else, she told herself. Nothing but to serve her gods. What had happened was a fluke, an aberration, a glitch. Surely, it could be corrected, if not in this life, then her next? Perhaps she was not really defective. After all, it had just been … just one wrong moment. It wasn't as though she still…

Kilana put a hand to her lips, where the touch of his still seemed to linger. She sat down and closed her eyes, afraid to admit and yet unable to deny the depths of her transgression.

Her words to him had been a lie:

"Don't come near me, leave me alone!" _No, no, please don't leave me alone, I need you, stay with me, please, tell me it's going to be alright …_

"Don't touch me!" _Touch me, hold me, don't let me go. Kiss me again …_

Even now, she was wondering what it would be like if … if they hadn't stopped. What would it be like for their bodies to meet, to join, skin to skin, him kissing her and touching her in all the places she'd never been –

"No!" She said out loud, feeling the shame flood her. She wished you could reach inside herself and tear them out, these traitorous feelings and desires that condemned her, marked her as flawed, defective, wrong.

But she couldn't.

Kilana curled up into a ball. It took a while, but eventually, her shame, fear, and confusion gave way to sheer exhaustion, and she fell asleep.

Her eyes flew open when the alarm chimed. For an instant, she did not remember why she was curled up on her couch instead of in bed, and then all the memories and the feelings came rushing back. She gave a little gasp, suppressing a sob. For a moment, she didn't move.

And then she began, rather mechanically, to prepare for her day. By the time she had finished, she had come up with what seemed to be the only sane course of action: to pretend that nothing wrong had ever happened.

Really, it was either that or terminate. And she couldn't do that. They did not yet have their cloning facilities up and running on this side of the wormhole, so no replacement would be forthcoming. Besides, a seemingly healthy Vorta with an active assignment did not have the right to simply terminate without giving the Founders an explanation … and she certainly couldn't do_ that_! So this was the only option.

Now, she just had to concentrate on acting … normal.

There was a meeting of the station's ruling council in a few minutes. Everyone would be there, including Weyoun.

This was going to be torture. But she deserved to suffer.

When she entered the conference room, they were all already there – Dukat and Damar, the Major, the two Founders, and of course … him. She looked around in confusion.

"I'm sorry, am I late? Forgive me, please, I did not mean to – "

"Sit," the Female Founder said tersely. Kilana instantly fell silent and did as she was told, bowing her head as she sat down.

"You are not late. We have been discussing your new assignment." Surprised then, she dared to look up into the face of her god, and was met only with an unreadable expression. No anger, no recrimination, just an impassivity she couldn't fathom.

"My … new assignment?" She dared to ask.

"Yes. It has been decided that your presence on the station is somewhat redundant. You would better serve us leading our forces into the Morbia system. You will take command of the ship at docking bay three; they lost their Vorta in their last battle. You will secure the system from the Federation forces and prevent any further incursions into Cardassian territory. You will leave tomorrow morning. Do you understand?"

"Yes, completely." Relief, along with several other emotions she wouldn't admit to, flooded her.

"Thank you Founder, for this opportunity to redeem –"

The Female Founder waved her hand dismissively. "Your gratitude is neither required nor wanted. Go now and prepare yourself for your new assignment." Not daring to speak anymore, Kilana nodded. She turned to leave, but somehow, she couldn't resist looking back at Weyoun. Their eyes met briefly, and he gave her a stiff little nod, which she returned, and for a moment, she felt an overwhelming sadness, to think that this was all there was to be of their goodbye. But even so, she left, as she had been told to do.

She served the Founders in all things.

Kilana spent the rest of her day secluded in her quarters, studying star charts and tactical reports. And if she was a little distracted, if her thoughts sometimes strayed to the touch of Weyoun's lips on her own or the feel of his arms around her, she told herself that it would pass soon enough, when there was once again light years between them. As a matter of fact, she might not see him again in this lifetime. Perhaps for several lifetimes.

Perhaps never.

And at that thought, something took a hold of her. She looked down at the PADD in her hand. She had poured over all the information several times over now; she practically had it memorized. _No_, she told herself, even as she put the PADD down, and strode out of her quarters, towards his own. No, this was … foolish. Sentimental. Selfish-indulgent. And of course, wrong. Very wrong.

But she didn't stop. She stood in front of his door and hesitated only a moment before pressing the chime. The door opened, and then he was there, just… staring at her. Kilana's eyes locked with his, and her heart went to her throat. She wondered which one of them would be the first to speak.

"Kilana, what … what are you doing here?"

"I came to say goodbye."

And before he could respond, she had wrapped her arms around him, pressing her lips to his once again, heavy, hot, urgent. They stumbled back into his quarters, still entwined, and the door closed. Weyoun was responding eagerly, like she knew he would, his hands moving over, pressing her to him … oh, it fellow so …

"This is wrong," he managed when they broke apart to catch their breath. Then his lips were once again trailing down her throat, devouring her neck. Her hands gripped his shoulders, holding onto him for support as he continued, the pleasure of it all making her go weak.

"Very wrong," she sighed, and kissed him again. "We… should … stop now," she managed to get out, in between kisses.

He pulled back from her then, looking deep into her eyes. "Do you want to stop?" He asked.

Kilana looked back at him. Their arms were still around each other. She was breathing heavily, her pulse was racing, and she felt … excited. Scared. Guilty. But most of all, she felt the overwhelming pleasure of his touch, her body responding to him in ways she had never dared to imagine.

Just for tonight … just this once …

"No, I don't want to stop. I want more. I want … you."

"I want you too."

And at their mutual admission, both of them knew any hope they had left of fighting their impulses was gone. There was no turning back now. Kilana took Weyoun's hand and led him into the bedroom. They stood there for a moment, studying each other, eager, but at the same time uncertain of how to proceed. Kilana stepped forward, reaching for him. She slid her hands up his chest to his shoulders. Almost shyly now, she put her lips to his ear, tugging at his shirt.

"How … how do I …" His hands guided hers, helping to remove the layers of clothing. They pulled apart, and she contemplated the newly revealed expanses of skin for a moment. Then she took his hand, placing it on the clasp that held her shirt closed, shivering a little as he opened it and gently slid the garment off of her. His eyes widened at the sight of her bare skin; his gaze seemed to devour her. She found it exciting, and almost a little frightening as well.

She took his hands then, placed them on herself, at the base of throat, just above her breasts. For a moment, he didn't move, and then his hand trailed down to her breasts, cupping them, doing … what seemed to come naturally, apparently. Massaging, squeezing, working her nipples to a peak … they learned very quickly that this was a particularly sensitive area of her body, a place that she enjoyed being touched as much as he enjoyed touching her. She whimpered and pulled him in for a kiss, pressing them together, bare skin to bare skin, more demanding now, more insistent. He scooped her up, laid her down on the bed, and then got on top of her. She could feel a part of him, the evidence of his desire, pressing on her leg through their remaining clothes. And her own body was responding, a strange sort warmth and heat was there, low, beneath her stomach ... she couldn't fully describe it, but it was as though her body ached for him…

Her train of thought was derailed when his lips trailed across her breast. She gasped, and when his mouth closed around her nipple, she couldn't restrain a moan of delight. He looked up at her then.

"Yes?"

"Yes," she breathed, and he lavished the same attention on her other breast. Then they were kissing again, their legs twining, and something occurred to her.

"We need to remove our pants too, don't we?"

"Hmm?" He was busy nuzzling her neck. "Oh, um, yes, I suppose we do. Forgot about that part. Sorry." She giggled then, muffling the sound in his shoulder, nervous, giddy. She grew serious again as they slid the remainder of their clothes off each other.

"Dear one … look at me." Their eyes locked, and Weyoun slowly slid a hand down until he reached the juncture between her legs, and –

"Oh," Kilana moaned as he stroked her. Pleasure such as she had never known flooded her, and she squirmed beneath him, helpless with it. "Oh, oh Weyoun, I …" How had he known … oh, hell, she didn't care. Just as long as he kept going…

He continued his ministrations for a few more moments, to her obvious delight, and then his hand slowed, and finally stilled. Kilana's eyes, which had been half-closed in ecstasy, now widened, as she looked at him questioningly. Then she felt the insistent press of him against her thigh, and understood.

"Kilana … you … this might … hurt a bit. My entrance, I mean. At least initially."

She reached up a hand to caress his face. "It's alright. I trust you."

He nodded. She opened herself to him, and he thrust into her. She let out a little gasp as it happened, as their bodies became joined.

"Are you alright? Did I hurt you?" There was a slightly panicked edge to his voice, but to his relief, she appeared to be in no pain. She looked up at him and smiled reassuringly.

"No," she breathed. "No, it doesn't … hurt." The sensation was overwhelming to be sure, but for an instant, she was at a loss to describe it, as either pain or pleasure. Experimentally, she squeezed her muscles around him. He groaned and thrust deeper into her, and then she knew: _definitely_ pleasure. Overwhelming, frightening pleasure.

"Oh Kilana …"

"Weyoun … go slow … to start."

He nodded and they began a slow, steady rhythm. At first, they were able to exercise a measure of restraint, but soon their need took over, and Kilana was clutching him to her, her body rising to meet his own, and –

"Faster," she whispered, moaning in excitement when he complied. Their moans mingled as their movements grew frenzied, frantic, wild.

"Oh yes, Weyoun, oh please, please," She gasped, without even knowing what she was pleading for. They seemed to be moving towards something, the pleasure growing more and more intense as they continued.

"Oh Kilana, you feel so…" He captured her mouth greedily in a kiss as he thrust into her again, hard. She whimpered, feeling something build, something at her core, the pleasure of it all reaching impossible heights, and then … she screamed out, she didn't know what she said, but all she could to was clutch him as her body writhed, moving of its own accord as she reached the peak of her white-hot pleasure.

Her release was all it took for him to reach his own, as he exploded inside her, calling out her name. He collapsed on top of her as they both went limp, stunned, spent, sated. Just as the weight of him began to feel oppressive, he rolled off of her and onto his back. She immediately curled to his side, laying her head on his chest, and for a moment, there was only the sound of them catching their breaths, and the rapid beating of their hearts and their pulses gradually slowed down to normal. It was not until then that they dared to look at each other.

"I didn't know," Kilana whispered.

"Didn't know what?"

"I didn't know anything could feel like that. I didn't know anything could feel so … good."

"Neither did I."

"Oh Weyoun … there is something wrong with us, isn't there? There has to be, for us to want to this, for us to enjoy this –"

He cut off her words with a gentle kiss. He pulled away, stroking her face. "Don't," he said softly. "Not now."

"What do you mean?"

"You leave tomorrow, Kilana. You and I will have plenty of time to contemplate how wrong all this is when we are apart. But for now, just for now …" He trailed off, looking at her meaningfully, and reached for her again. And again, they succumbed to their desires, and whatever guilt or confusion they felt was overridden by their need for each other.

"Oh my dear one," Weyoun whispered, embracing her, "no transgression was ever so sweet."

They soon found the pleasure of the act did not diminish with the repeating of it; if anything, the opposite was true. They learned the lessons of each other's bodies well. Eventually, however, they exhausted themselves, and fell asleep together.

Kilana awoke in his arms. She drifted to consciousness slowly, reluctantly. This part was slightly more familiar than the rest. But the last time she had awoken in his arms, they had both been fully clothed. It had not been like this, bare skin to bare skin, after spending the night ... what did they call it? Not procreating … mating? Making love?

She liked this version better.

It was almost time for her to leave, she knew, but she lingered, studying his features, the contentment on his face as he slept, memorizing the way he looked. She supposed she could wake him if she really wanted, share some final words of parting, but … no. _Just for tonight_, she had told herself.

And it was morning now.

"Goodbye," she whispered, very softly. She slipped out of bed, got dressed, and forced herself to leave him without looking back.

She was already at the airlock of docking bay three when a familiar voice called her name.

"Kilana … wait."


End file.
